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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25465702">a little party never killed nobody</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest'>stevebuckiest</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>be gay, do crime [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Knives Out (2019), We Have Always Lived in the Castle (2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Again, Anal Sex, Charles would kill for Ransom, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Face Slapping, Humiliation, Lingerie, M/M, Sex Toys Under Clothing, consensual forced submission, even if they don't say it, mention of public sex, murder boyfriends who are in love, sub ransom as usual, they finally leave their house, they're emotionally repressed please give them a break</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:55:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,450</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25465702</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevebuckiest/pseuds/stevebuckiest</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>charles has a few creative ideas on how to keep his boyfriend in line when they go out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charles Blackwood/Ransom Drysdale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>be gay, do crime [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809196</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a little party never killed nobody</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>long time no see...but the asshole murder boyfriends are back and more bitching than ever.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Despite his family’s endless crusade to paint him as some sort of socialite playboy hooked on using both designer drugs and models, Ransom actually isn’t much for the party scene. Or, at least, the physical aspect of it. He likes having friends in high places, feeling important enough to have his company desired, and definitely enjoys getting all dressed up to make a spectacle for himself- but as much as Ransom loves the attention of showing and being shown off to everyone when he and Charles actually venture outside of just each other’s company, he hates the small talk and forced niceness of it even more. Ransom has no problem with talking- Charles knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn</span>
  </em>
  <span> well his boyfriend loves the sound of his own voice- but he isn’t built for being polite to others, bluntness and snake’s venom wit leaping out every time someone speaks out of what he deems worthy of his approval. He’s a master manipulator and can fake a poker face better than anyone that Charles has ever met, but he doesn’t put the effort of that talent forward- not unless being charming to people he can’t stand can be used to work in his favor to get himself something he wants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, with that being said, Charles expects his smart-mouthed boyfriend to be on his best behavior tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No rude comments, no glaring, only the </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightest</span>
  </em>
  <span> amount of sarcasm allowed in his voice (because Charles doesn’t think even an order could take that ingrained trait out of him), and above all- no tantrums. Not if Ransom wants what Charles has promised him tonight. He’s pretty sure the warning slap to Ransom’s ass he landed before they walked in was enough for the message to sink in, but he wants to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>extra</span>
  </em>
  <span> sure- hence the heavy chain link of Ransom’s Tiffany bracelet currently gleaming below the sleeves of his sweater where his hands are placed on his hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bracelet was an anniversary present from Charles gifted a few years ago- expensive and over the top in the way that Charles knows Ransom loves, but besides being just a flashy piece of jewelry, the bracelet also has a private meaning between the two of them that isn’t based off of what day they got together. They have other pieces of jewelry for that, this bracelet is much more. Charles’ pinky brushes against the tag of it when he reaches his hand down, glimmering gold heart reading </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please return to Charles Blackwood </span>
  </em>
  <span>twinkling sideways until Charles laces their fingers together and the angle of their wrists obscures it from view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom has the necklace that goes with it hidden under the black sweater Charles coordinated his own grey button down to, matching heart pendant looking to be nothing more than an inconspicuous bump on his chest to everyone else- but serving as a heady reminder to the both of them what this night is all about. That’s not the only thing Ransom has hiding under his clothes for Charles tonight, but it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> what’s pressing on Charles’ mind right now, cool metal of the gold warming up between their skin as Charles digs his nails into Ransom’s skin and waits for him to get out the other side of the conversation they’re currently having in a manner that won’t leave him high and dry and the end of the night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Really, Charles would hate for that to be the case with all the effort and coordination they’ve both put into planning this, but if it has to happen- it has to happen. Charles is aware Ransom is a handful, his brat, his sweet slut- his </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch</span>
  </em>
  <span>, when Charles is feeling mean- and he loves him for it, but that doesn’t mean Ransom gets to get away with it when he knows damn well they have rules set between them for times like this. Rules that Charles doesn’t take kindly to his boyfriend breaking- he knows that the fight to submission is half their fun, but he has to draw the line somewhere to show who’s in control here. And tonight, Ransom isn’t allowed to step one toe across that line unless he wants all their plans to be ruined by his lack of self control. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile Ransom lets out falters slightly when he grits his teeth at the sting on the back of his hand, but his voice doesn’t change in the slightest as he bids Anna Marie and her date goodbye. He does, however, give Charles a betrayed look as soon as they’re out of earshot. “What was that for, Blackwood?” he hisses, hand loosening in Charles’ grip like he wants to jerk it away. “I didn’t do anything!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tone borders on whiny when Charles pets his thumb over the crescent shaped marks he left, fingers curling tight again. Charles just laughs and takes a sip of his drink with his free hand, eyes trailing around his room just to make Ransom remember where they are before he speaks out his answer, his own voice quietly amused. “Just thought you could use the reminder, H. Isn’t that sweet of me? Trying to make sure we both have a good time tonight, you know.” He takes another sip, then slides his hand free of Ransom’s in order to place it on his lower back, fingers tracing against his skin knowingly. “You want to have a good time, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes sure to tap his spine at the words </span>
  <em>
    <span>good time</span>
  </em>
  <span> to let him know that he doesn’t just mean this party. Where they’re at right now is only the opening entertainment, Charles has things in mind that go far beyond some stupid social gathering neither of them truly care about past the alcohol and attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom is well aware of these...</span>
  <em>
    <span>things</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hence his slowly sullen reply. “Would be having a wonderful time if my boyfriend wasn’t maiming me with his nails for no reason,” Ransom bites back, voice lacking its level of usual heat enough for Charles to know that Ransom is still being good for him, even if he’s having a hard time doing it agreeably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We both know that between the two of us, you’re the one with the claws, kitty,” he teases, fingers sliding down lower until he’s got them pressed up against the base of his spine, touch and position promising. “Had you scratch me up enough times to prove that.” Ransom’s breath hitches when Charles skritches his fingers against his back to mimic the action he's talking about, stance shifting and eyes flicking around the crowded area in front of them, full of people who have no idea of what’s going on between Charles and Ransom in the corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Charles</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he warns stiffly, and although Charles rolls his eyes and sighs, he relents to the unspoken askance in Ransom’s tone and relents from pushing that button any further. Getting Ransom to admit to being his sweet little kitty is hard enough on a good day, and with things as they are tonight, he doesn’t want to be the one to ruin their plans. Listen, Charles loves getting Ransom riled up and overwhelmed more than anything, but as much as he adores getting his boyfriend fighting mad by teasing him about being his kitten, they have other things to focus on at the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Namely, the plug currently buried inside him and the lingerie Charles picked out for him sitting pretty under his fancy clothes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles rubs his thumb right over where he knows the top of Ransom’s garter belt is, pushing in gently at the soft skin that rises above the elastic and smiling sweetly at the grunted noise and pointed look Ransom gives him. The rule is no glaring, but that doesn’t mean Ransom doesn’t still have a killer side eye. So Charles lets him have his fun with the grumpy look, leaning in and kissing his cheek right after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want me to make sure there’s no lines, darling? Wouldn’t want everyone else to know what kind of pretty underthings you’re wearing, would we? Be awfully improper of us,” he murmurs out in a sing-song voice, taking advantage of the fact that their backs are facing a corner to drop his hand down to Ransom’s ass and ghost over the seams that they both know are there, even if they aren't visible. They both know the teasing is bullshit- Ransom made damn sure that the sweater and dress pants he picked out didn’t show any straps or outlines, but he turns scarlet at the thought anyways, lips drawing tight. Charles doesn’t wait for an answer, downing the last of his drink and setting it on the table next to them instead, smile saccharine when he loops his arm around Ransom’s waist and tucks him closer to his side. “How about we go say hello to some more people, then? We didn’t come to this party to sit in the corner all night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom grumbles out something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t want to come to this party at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>”, but he huffs and lets Charles push him forward into the throng of people before them without much resistance, stiffening up only slightly at the jostle of the plug inside him and the resulting chuckle that Charles lets out after. He pushes on- out of obedience or bratty stubbornness Charles can’t tell, but either way, he marches forward to the next group of people they have to mingle with with his head held high and signature haughtiness held in place. No sign of the secret they’re currently hiding shows through his clothes or his brusque exterior, and something about it makes satisfaction curl up pleasantly in Charles' chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows that Ransom has been secretly looking forward to this plan for weeks even if he’s too ornery to admit how much he enjoys the mixed thrill of embarrassment and feeling pretty (as if Charles doesn’t love being the one to make him feel that way just as much). He won’t even admit how much he likes Charles spoiling him with his money and pretty things, too caught up in maintaining that </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t need anyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>attitude- it’s okay, though. Charles knows his baby likes being pampered. No one else has genuinely ever done it for him before, not with Ransom’s financial capability to do it on his own- but Charles is glad to be the only one to get him pretty and preening, make him feel cherished and owned every time he slides on something sweet and silky that Charles picked out for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the fact that he’s let Charles doll him up and take him out in public like some sort of trophy on his arm? He doesn’t even need the champagne to help him feel giddy. Knowing what Ransom’s got on (and in) him is enough to have him drunk on the feeling of being in control. Watching Ransom bite his normally sharp tongue in sullen attempts to be good only furthers the feeling even more. He likes watching the show he’s putting on for everyone- loves knowing that </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s for Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s his boy, after all. Every last bratty, stubborn, frustrating inch of him. His boy even when he’s being forced to obey, needing Charles to curb him off his attitude, but his boy especially right now when he’s putting in so much work struggling to be good for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve been here for close to an hour already, so there aren’t many people they haven’t already chatted with left to see besides the stragglers who took arriving fashionably late a little too far. Ransom takes the forced conversation with them in stride (or, at least, after a little pushing from Charles), doing his best to fulfill his end of the bargain for the night with as many tight lipped smiles and politely clipped answers as he can manage before Charles is finally taking away their empty champagne glasses and setting them on the table with a flourish, waving off the offers for refills with an uninterested hand and an apologetic look so genuine that Ransom wouldn’t know it was fake if he were anyone else. But, the fact of the matter is, he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Charles’</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> how to see through the good-guy persona that his boyfriend puts on when he wants to be liked. They’re both aware of how easy it is for them to see through each other, so Charlie doesn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> to keep the act downplayed enough to hide it from Ransom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll have to be going, I’m afraid,” he says, tipping his head to the other guests they just finished having a (very boring) exchange with. Ransom smiles lazily, his first genuine one of the evening, and if they weren’t so close to making it home with their plans still intact- Charles might reprimand him for it, but with how far they’ve made it tonight, he just smiles politely alongside him and decides he’ll make sure to do something about it later. Probably something to do with spanking over that plug currently in him. “It was nice talking, though. We’ll have to see about getting out a bit more,” he hums, eyes flicking over to Ransom, currently serving as nothing more than very smug arm-candy. “Won’t we, H?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom’s eyes narrow slightly at the implication they’ll be playing this game again, but he doesn’t fight back for now. “We will, I’m sure,” he concedes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Until next time, then. Tell Theo we said goodbye, would you? Thanks.” With that and a few more perfunctory farewells, Charles turns Ransom towards the door so they can collect their coats and leave, door closing shut with a heavy thud that cuts off the chattering noise from inside and leaves Charles and Ransom free to finally drop the facades they had been wearing inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls Ransom in for a quick kiss immediately, hand cupping his neck and sliding down until his fingers brush under the collar of his sweater and he can feel the strap of Ransom’s silk camisole hooked around his pinky. When he pulls back, Ransom’s eyes are half lidded. “You made it,” Charles teases, voice rough. “Never thought I’d see my sweet brat make it more than an hour without acting up, but you made it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s impressed, even if he’ll only admit it through a taunt. Ransom behaving well in any sort of way outside of when Charles has him broken down and panting beneath him is an anomaly to say the least. He might crave submission when it comes to Charles taking control between them, but he doesn’t have an easily cooperative bone in his body, a point only priven by his immediately changed attitude now that he knows he’s made it (almost) home free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better make the effort worth it, Blackwood,” Ransom grunts out, already stepping forward and down the steps towards the car like he can’t wait to get home. Charles follows him immediately because, truth be told, he can’t wait to get home either. He grins and shepherds Ransom down to his beamer, sliding in the driver's side to start their way home to where better things than stuffy socializing await. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With me, it’s always worth it, amante,” he hums, taking a hand off the wheel to grip possessively at Ransom’s thigh, fingers tucked between his legs and thumb stroking at where he knows silk stockings hide underneath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom rolls his eyes and huffs, but he also spreads his legs further open until he’s slouched back into the passenger seat with Charles feeling up his thigh, thumb still teasing. “We’ll see,” he says drily. “Better save that talk for later after you put your money where your mouth is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My money right now is in all that silk covering your pretty cock,” Charles counters, eyes flicking out the window while he begins exiting the parking lot. “But my mouth goes there a lot, so I think I already kind of have that covered, don’t I, sweet slut?” He squeezes Ransom’s thigh, smile lazy when Ransom’s breath hitches while he pulls out onto the road towards their house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s true that what Ransom’s wearing under his clothes is ridiculously expensive- Ransom’s vanity always wants the best of the best, after all, and Charles is proud enough to always give it to him no matter the cost. They can afford it, anyways, so every piece Charles gifts him is of the highest quality, handmade silk and lace pieces that feel amazing on his skin and look even better. Ransom is admittedly a clothes whore, but even he can’t find any complaints about what Charles’ supplies him with (outside of being embarrassed to want to wear it in the first place). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still scowls at the teasing, arms crossed across his chest in a pouting gesture. The position leaves his biceps bulging against the soft material of his sweater, and if Charles weren’t so busy driving right now, he’d probably be chasing a slew of filthy thoughts about how all those muscles and toned legs are going to look spread out on the bed, waiting and wanton against the contrasting green silk wrapped around them. Really, he chases those thoughts anyways, cursing to himself when it results in him hitting a pothole and jostling Ransom’s precious car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns his head once he has them cruising again, ready to hear Ransom bitching about Charles damaging his baby with reckless driving (as if he’s any better), what what he’s welcomed by instead is a soft groan and Ransom tilting his head back against the seat with his eyes closed. He’s flushed, seemingly having his mind nowhere near worrying about Charles driving based off the tent in his dress pants, and for a second Charles is confused as to why he looks this way when the only place Charles is touching him is on his leg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, realizing, he grins. “What, don’t tell me you’re getting off on this?” he drawls, shaking his head while he turns onto their street. “Really, H. You’re so </span>
  <em>
    <span>easy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom scowls again, blown eyes flicking open to glare now that he’s finally allowed. “You try getting thrown around your seat when you have something shoved in your ass!” he snaps, hips shifting down now that the plug has been acknowledged again, movement only drawing more attention to the bulge tenting his pants. Charles idly wonders if he’ll find a stain on the silk from the precome when he finally gets a look at him out of his clothes later, but Ransom is spitting out another retort before he can dwell on it too long. “Fuck off and keep your hands on the wheel, why don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s cute seeing him bristly and embarrassed again, but Charles also isn’t gonna let it slide without pushing him back to where he knows he belongs for the night. “Watch that attitude of yours or my hands are gonna be kept spanking your ass red all night without touching anywhere else,” he says casually, pinching his inner thigh to make him huff. “I didn’t get you all trussed up for nothing, mio caro. Cool it.” He revs the gas trying to get them home quicker, Ransom falling into a resentful silence that lasts until Charles pulls the car into their driveway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He uncrosses his arms as they park, already gathering his things to go inside. His bracelet gleams in the low shine of their porch light coming in through the car window. “Bedroom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nods, parking outside the house briefly and nodding for Ransom to step out. “Get rid of your clothes and wait for me on the bed while I close up the garage. Jewelry on,” he orders. Might as well keep that claim on for the night, keep helping him remember exactly who he belongs to. “No touching yourself until I get there, not even through your pretty underwear,” he specifies, knowing Ransom’s preference for taking advantage of loopholes and technicalities. “You know the rules.” The </span>
  <em>
    <span>and you know what happens when you disobey</span>
  </em>
  <span> goes unspoken, but Ransom hears it anyways based on the way his jaw clenches. He opens the door to get out of the car, turning to go in, and for a moment Charles thinks he’ll go without a fight- but it’s Ransom. Of course he won’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns his head back, bending down slightly to raise his eyebrows and give Charles a bratty look. “Don’t keep me waiting, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sir</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he says petulantly, voice somehow submissive and smart-ass at the same time when he lets the title out of his mouth for the first time of what Charles plans on being a very long evening. With that and a smirk, he’s on his way towards the house to fulfill Charles’ command, walk still a strut even with the plug currently buried inside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Should have put in the vibrating one</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Charles thinks darkly, mind flicking to the remote he could be using right now to make his asshole boyfriend regret that last statement, go to his knees before he’s even inside the door. Help him test out just how far his little exhibitionist streak goes when Charles has him worked up and begging for it right in the driveway. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh well</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he concedes, pulling the beamer inside of their garage and parking as quickly as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s always next time, isn’t there?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes it into the house after only a few minutes, taking time to lock up the front door after he finishes with the garage and smiling slightly to himself as he turns to head towards the bedroom. He knows what’s waiting for him inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he pushes open the cracked door, he isn’t disappointed by the view that he finds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom is sprawled out lazily against the pillows of their bed, thick thighs fallen open and hands resting casually on his bare stomach under the pushed up hem of his camisole as if he just happened to fall down to lay this way instead of intentionally posing just to show off everything he’s wearing. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Charles thinks, licking his lips and stepping forward, hands already working at the buttons of his shirt. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What a show it is. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The set he’d chosen for him to wear tonight is all matching a light periwinkle blue from the camisole right down to the tips of his stockings, garter belt and panties keeping the same shade in between. He’d skipped out on the corresponding corset, but looking at how everything else looks on his boyfriend’s body, he thinks this is still more than enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sight of Ransom in lingerie is nothing entirely new to him, but seeing him spread out and smugly wanting for it, knowing </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span> was something he’d earned- knowing that those pretty panties and sweet stockings have been waiting for Charles all night under his clothes, even when they were out in public with all of their fancy friends...it’s heady. Makes the dominant part of Charles (which is admittedly a very large part of him) purr in satisfaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Even when he cocks an eyebrow at Charles. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Especially</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he lifts a hand to fiddle at his necklace, gold tag marking him as Charles’ shining like a beacon in the light of their bedside lamp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifts his legs and looks at Charles expectantly, clearly trying to get a rise out of him in order to get what he wants without having to ask for it. “Well?” he asks. “What are you waiting for, Blackwood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles hums and finishes unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off to toss onto the floor. Ransom eyes track his bared abdomen and chest, even more appreciatively when Charles lifts his foot to rest on the ottoman at the end of their bed in order to take his shoes off, abs flexing at the motion. “Just enjoying the view, sweetheart. You look pretty as a picture.” Ransom preens at the praise, clearly pleased at the comment, so Charles decides </span>
  <em>
    <span>why not take it a little further?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Think I’ll take one of you like this, one day,” he muses, stepping out of his pants. “Just to remind myself of what a good slut I have waiting for me at home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom scoffs at the same time his dick twitches in his panties, resistant even when Charles climbs onto the bed to press on top of him, silky smooth material soft between them while their dicks and Ransom’s attitude are anything but. “You think I’m risking that type of scandal you’re crazy,” he denies. “We have reputations to uphold, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles kisses at his neck, nosing his way up Ransom’s sharp jawline until he makes it to his lips instead, parted and pouty. “Oh, I do know. Only thing I want ruined around here is you, darling.” And with that, he captures Ransom into a bruising kiss, all sharp teeth tugging at bottom lips and tongue licking into his mouth like he wants to taste every last bit of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Really, he does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, with that thought in mind, he pulls away from the kiss and leaves Ransom panting into it, hips twitching up against Charles’ own crotch still covered by his briefs. “You were good for me tonight,” he says lowly, sliding a hand up to tug at the heavy chain around his neck. “Guess this proves you can behave with a little incentive, huh?” Ignoring Ransom’s protesting noise, he moves his body down until he’s situated between the vee of Ransom’s legs, head level with his sternum. “Well,” he hums out, giving Ransom’s necklace another teasing tug. “Time to give you everything you earned, sweet slut.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s leaning down and sealing his mouth over one of Ransom’s pecs over the silk a moment later, younger man moaning helplessly above him, hands flying up to clutch at his hair. Charles moves his tongue to circle around his nipple until it’s hard under his lips, teeth coming into play a second later and making Ransom groan. He knows he’s getting the silk wet enough to stain, but he doesn’t care enough to stop, only switches over to the other side of Ransom’s chest and leaves the already teased half of it exposed to grow cold and sensitive from the dampness. He ghosts his fingers over the nipple poking up against the fabric, mouth still moving wickedly on the other before he pulls away from it and speaks right into the soiled silk, Ransom moaning and rutting against him all the while. The plug is still in, and Charles can clock every time Ransom gets it to brush against his prostate from the desperate timbre of his noises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s lovely. He decided to tell him so, see how whiny and embarrassed it gets him. “You get so sweet like this, H. Maybe I’ll have to doll you up pretty every time we go out if I want you to behave, keep you trussed up and slutty for it so you’ll be too needy for cock to be a brat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The suggestion gets Ransom spitting mad, groaning when Charles rubs both hands teasingly over his sensitive nipples and admires the two damp spots on the silk. Or, rather, the three damp spots- because no matter how ornery and riled up Ransom is about Charles teasing him- his cock betrays just how much he likes it, stretching at the silk and the head of him getting it so wet that when Charles pulls back even more and looks, it’s gone almost completely transparent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hello</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Charles croons, wiggling his body down even more so he can get a good look at it, eyes locked on target like he’s forgotten that Ransom is there at all, attached to his object of focus. He pets at the soiled spot for a second, slapping Ransom’s hand away when he tries to join in and make Charles pay him more mind. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Quit it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I want to look at how messy you got your pretty things. You get like this when we were around everyone else or is this just for me?” He runs a hand up Ransom’s stocking covered leg, completely smooth with the freshly shaved skin that hides underneath. He wants to feel those wrapped around his waist while he fucks him hoarse- he will get that in a bit, but first… “I wonder what all those other people would think if they knew what you really were.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom tries to touch again, but Charles smacks his cock this time after doing the same to his hand, hard hit making him whimper even when he kisses it after. “They don’t know me,” Ransom grits out. “None of them.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>But you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiles and caresses his cock through the silk with the backs of his fingers like it’s something precious. “They don’t,” he agrees. “They think you’re some bigshot playboy, but imagine how shocked they’d be to find out that Ransom Drysdale is nothing more than my obedient little </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God,” Ransom moans out. “Charles- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He tries to touch again, but Charles pins his wrist to the comforter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe not always so obedient, I guess,” he tuts. “I suppose that’s why I have to </span>
  <em>
    <span>make</span>
  </em>
  <span> you behave. Next time we do this I’ll be forced to threaten to show everyone what your real party clothes look like if you step out of line, hm?” He slides his fingers under the edge of Ransom’s panties. “Wouldn’t want your rude manners ruining that reputation you mentioned earlier. We’ll have to show them all that you’re capable of being good when given the right...motivation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s aware the filth he’s spewing out is all fantastical and over the top, but it leaves Ransom wide eyed and panting, cock straining against the silk desperately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t,” Ransom rasps. He’s right. Charles wouldn’t with how damn possessive he is- but that doesn’t mean they can’t pretend, at least for tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he raises a challenging eyebrow and releases Ransom’s wrists to grab at the waist of his panties and start tugging him down. He’d had the foresight to put them on after the garter belt, a fact that he’s glad for when Ransom’s cock springs free while he’s still sliding them down his legs, slapping hard and leaking against the flat plane of his stomach and brushing at the edge of his garter. The smear of precome darkens the fabric of the belt as well, a small stain that Charles licks over when he makes his way back up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Making yourself a fucking mess just thinking about everyone seeing you? Know you love attention, H,” he hums, spreading Ransom’s legs a bit to press at where he knows he’s still got him filled up. Ransom gasps, and Charles goes on smugly. “I got all sorts of ideas on how to keep you in line with that, amante.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The noise Ransom lets out when Charles slides the plug free is punched out, one stocking-covered leg coming up to rest against Charles’ back. He’s groaning for it as Charles presses a finger right inside, but all the fight doesn’t seem to have left him yet, voice still managing to be pushy while he tries to plead Charles into going faster. “Been open all damn night, Charles. Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he complains breathily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles leans up and kisses him slow and filthy, sliding in a second finger to his already stretched entrance in the meantime. When he pulls back, it’s only slightly, still close enough for their lips to brush when he orders, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Beg</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom’s jaw clenches, but he’s far down and needy enough to submit to the command begrudgingly. “Please, Sir,” he manages haltingly. “I’m open enough, I swear. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.” The last phrase comes out bordering on bossy, but the last of that leaves him when Charles fits a hand over his throat and removes his fingers to lean up and grab the lube Ransom helpfully set onto the bed next to him when he was waiting for Charles to come inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seems like he’s still waiting on that, Charles smirks, gazing down appreciatively at how slick and pliant his hole already is. Looks ready enough for it that Charles could just slide right inside, and after shoving down his brief and using a loose hand to lube his cock up, he decides to do just that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom’s reaction to Charles pushing into him is immediate, a drawn out groan that Charles swallows with a kiss, leaning down to bracket over Ransom’s silk clad body with his own. He can feel the silk of Ransom’s stockings slide against his back when he wraps his legs around him, gold of his Tiffany’s bracelet cool against Charles’ skin when Ransom wraps his arms around him too, moaning into their kiss helplessly. It’s gorgeous, the way he submits to it after the fight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Charles starts moving, he can’t keep his mouth from following suit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looked so gorgeous tonight on my arm, amante,” he murmurs, pace starting off lazily. He squeezes his hand in warning when Ransom groans and tries to make him go faster, tone dripping sugar sweet. “But you look even better right now. Should keep you in silk all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can afford it, Sir,” Ransom snarks back, yelping when Charles rolls his eyes and briefly lets go of his throat to smack him lightly across the face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re already spoiled enough as it is. Besides, I kind of like reserving this for special occasions.” He picks up the pace a little, licking a line up Ransom’s neck while he squirms and curses, silk of his camisole damp with sweat between them. “Could use something to keep me satisfied in between then, though,” he whispers, free hand smoothing up between them to push up the camisole and pinch at one of Ransom’s nipples. He grins wickedly. “You sure you don’t like the idea of me taking pictures of you like this? Dirty,” he bites his neck, hips moving faster. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Debauched</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Spread wide open leaking my come from your ass so I can see you being a messy slut for me whenever I want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom practically sobs when Charles finally hits his prostate, nails digging into the back of his back. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, darling. But it would be so </span>
  <em>
    <span>useful</span>
  </em>
  <span> for me,” Charles coos. “I could store it in my wallet to look at whenever I’m having a bad day, keep myself satisfied when I can’t have you under me.” He grins, sharp and predatory, nipping at Ransom’s plump lower lip as he gasps. “Or maybe...I could make better use of it getting you to behave for me.” He leans in close, fingers a vice around his left nipple. “How would you feel if I pulled it out at a party and showed all the important people we know just how pretty my boyfriend is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom practically chokes himself with how hard he recoils, shaking his head furiously even while his cock twitches between them. “No-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles kisses him quiet again, forcible and firm as he fucks into him leisurely again, right back to teasing. “Oh, but, mio caro- it’d be the perfect way to make you behave,” he murmurs, flicking his nipple before switching to torment the other. “Could pull it out and pass it around with you right there against my side if you broke the rules, promise them they could come watch later if they want to see if the real deal is just as pretty. Prove to them that you can be good. For </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> for you, Sir,” Ransom gets out, and any resolve Charles has keeping him back from fucking Ransom to an inch of his life snaps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn right,” he growls, hand clutching at his throat over the gold chain serving as his collar. The tag sticks out under his wrist. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please return to Charles Blackwood. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He leans down and kisses it, does the same to Ransom’s whining mouth right after, all while his hips snap forward at a bruising pace. “Because you know they’d be allowed to look at us, darling,” he whispers. “But if anyone laid so much as a finger on you- I’d have them dead before the day’s over. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, amante. They can see you in the pretty things I bought you, watch you make yourself a mess over my cock and being the center of attention. They can see how good you can be only for me, jealous and impressed over how you can just bend over and take it like the good slut you are- but they’re not getting you. No one but me is </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> getting you, H. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Never</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he swears, sealing off the statement with a claiming bite to Ransom’s neck, right above his necklace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seems to do the trick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Ransom groans out, and that’s all there is before he’s coming between them, easy for it as ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it, baby,” Charles says breathlessly, his own orgasm impending from how tight Ransom is milking his cock right now, clenching down tighter with every thrust and wave of his release that rushes over him. “Make yourself a mess so all of them can see how much better you can be than them. How much better </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> can be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ransom whimpers so pathetically that Charles knows he’s gonna be embarrassed about it later, but for now he just collapsed limp against the pillows and lets Charles use him for all that he has left. All that Charles has left himself turns out to be a few thrusts and a pointed squeeze to Ransom’s throat, because after that he’s coming hot inside him with a throaty groan and a sigh, hips stuttering to a halt once he’s ridden it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>True to form, Ransom only manages to keep his mouth shut for a few moments into the silence that falls over them, Charles collapsing on top of him without even bothering to pull out. There’s come smeared between their stomachs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you know I’ll kill you if you ever let anyone actually see,” he grumbles, tucking his head into Charles’ neck to hide how off balance the submission has left him feeling. As if it isn’t like this every time for him and Charles doesn’t always take care of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles just huffs out a laugh and lets him cling, only grimacing slightly at the press of sweat and come-wet silk between their bodies. “I’ll kill anyone who sees us before you can do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I take it that’s a no on the picture idea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Charles.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>kudos and comments are my fuel.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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